Artificial Love
by CaraKama
Summary: Third-year presents many challenges for Hermione Granger. In addition to an overloaded schedule and the presence of Dementors at Hogwarts, now a potion has been factored in that draws Hermione to Draco Malfoy, a boy who just keeps making mistakes.
1. The Potion

"Hey, Draco, you're good at potions! What could make this stronger; jasmine leaves or owl down? I'm sure both should have the same effect what with the other ingredients but which one would work better...?" Blaise held up two vials, each of them full of their respective materials.

"What are you making it for again?" Draco flipped over on his bed, leaning over the side to get a good look at the cauldron burning in the center of their dormitory, suspended a few inches above the ground. Blaise was leaning over the top of it, his nose covered in soot from the fire. "You've got a little something." Draco motioned to his nose, and Blaise wiped his own, scrubbing the soot off his face.

"It's just recreational. You know that girl with the black hair in Hufflepuff?"

"There are about a billion girls with black hair, Blaise. Hell, Potter has black hair! Be more specific."

"The one in our year. I don't really remember her name; Julia or Jessica or something like that. Anyway, I'm sure she's part veela! And you know how I've always wanted a veela. So I'm gonna use this potion to get her to come to me. I don't want to be that pathetic guy who just trails her around all the time, you know what I'm saying?"

"So it's a love potion?" Draco got up from his bed, then crouched overtop the cauldron, "This isn't amortentia."

"Nah, I don't like how amortentia works. Too fast, in my opinion. It's not at all natural, so people would probably be able to tell that what's-her-face had taken a potion before we even got anywhere. I got the recipe for a different one that works slower, and then I'm changing a few things to make it how I want it. Like morphing them together."

"Use the jasmine. And add some white chocolate shavings while you're at it. It's always a good idea to use some form of chocolate in any potion related to feelings." Draco jumped back into bed, picking up "Moste Potente Potions", which he had snagged from the Restricted Section earlier that day.

Blaise grumbled to himself, leaving the room to search for some form of chocolate to add to his potion. His potion began bubbling in his absence, but with a wave of his wand, Draco made it settle down before going back to his reading.

About half an hour later, Blaise was back. Draco nodded over to the potion, "It was bubbling up. Add some sugar." He didn't even look up at his friend as he spoke, still focusing on his book.

"Sugar? C'mon, I just left the kitchens!" Blaise went to leave again, but Draco's voice stopped him once again.

"Make it pure cane sugar, Zabini. Not the artificial crap you put in your tea."

With a huff, Blaise dropped the white chocolate and jasmine leaves next to the cauldron, where a couple chocolate shells were also hovering atop a couple silver wrappers.

The sound of pounding feet tore Draco's attention from his book. It was nearly time for supper to begin. Just as he was about to put his book down, Blaise himself came bounding into the room.

"If I just do the last few steps now, it'll be finished after dinner is over. Stick with me, Draco, okay? I'll probably need your help. You've always been better at potions than me." Usually, Draco would just leave, but he wasn't very hungry yet, and he was curious as to how this love potion would turn out. So he stuck around for a few more minutes as Blaise dumped in the cane sugar, grated in some white chocolate, and shredded in five jasmine leaves.

After a few minutes of stirring first clockwise, then counterclockwise, then clockwise once again, the two third-years left the cauldron to boil.

They made their way down the empty halls of Hogwarts in complete silence, the only sound being their feet treading along the polished floors.

Everyone was already seated and stuffing their faces in the Great Hall, so quite a few heads turned as the doors opened to reveal the two latecomers. Draco simply stuck up his nose and made his way to his seat, which of course had been saved for him. No one ever dared take Draco Malfoy's seat. Even the older students tried to steer clear of the proud Slytherin whenever they could.

Blaise followed behind, chest puffed out. Most people had turned away as soon as they had seen who had entered but, of course, Blaise had noticed the Hufflepuff veela's gaze still on them. Luckily enough, there was a seat saved for him as well, right across from Draco.

The girl, whose name was actually Janelle and not Julia or Jessica as Blaise had first introduced her, turned away as soon as they sat down, turning back to talk to her friends at her own table.

"Did you see that, mate? She had her eyes on me!" Blaise laughed, "This is almost too easy. I might not even need that potion in the end!"

"What potion?" Pansy Parkinson, who had been eavesdropping from a few seats away, asked. "I sure hope you aren't going to drug some poor girl without telling me first." She grinned a wicked smile, sipping at her pumpkin juice.

"None of your business, Parkinson," Blaise spat out, blushing a bit. It would be ridiculous for people to find out he was so hooked on one of the air-headed Hufflepuffs that he would actually go to the lengths of giving her a love potion.

"He's hooked on that Janelle girl in Hufflepuff," Draco said simply.

"Bro! You know how big of a mouth Pansy has! Now everyone will know within the next twenty-four hours!"

"I suppose I can keep this one to myself; if Draco wants me to." Pansy fluttered her eyelashes, but Draco only smirked in response.

"You had better keep it to yourself, Parkinson, or else you'll be the next one with a drop of potion in your cup, and it sure won't be a love potion!" Blaise huffed with annoyance.

After the Great Hall had nearly emptied out, Draco left with Blaise to check on the potion that was still floating in the center of their dormitory.

It seemed finished when they arrived. It was a creamy brown, almost like chocolate icing. It was still warm, but once Draco extinguished the fire beneath it, it cooled down considerably quickly. Blaise used his wand to transfer some of it into the two spherical chocolate shells, which were hollow on the inside. Once both were filled, he flicked his wand and they wrapped themselves up in some decorative foil.

Blaise took one and put it in his pocket. He offered the second one out to Draco, "Thanks for your help, mate. Couldn't have done it without you."

"I'm not interested. Just let me know how it goes with you." Draco walked back over to his bed, picking his book up again.

"Well, maybe you'll need it later. I'll just put it here in case you want to use it for some reason. I'll only need the one if everything works out right." Blaise placed the chocolate into the pocket of the robes hanging from Draco's bedpost.

Draco just shook his head, "I won't use it."

"Not even for a prank? If you slipped it to some girl in a serious relationship and she started to fall for you because of it, that would be funny, right?"

"I tend not to interfere in matters of the heart," Draco replied, smirking slightly.

"You just helped me interfere with what's-her-name's 'matter of the heart' so don't go all regal and chivalrous on me." Blaise threw himself onto his bed before remembering the cauldron still floating in the center of the room. With a wave of his wand, it collapsed and folded itself into his trunk at the foot of his bed.

Draco simply grinned, a real grin that he would only ever show to the people closest to him, and laughed sharply, "Go do your homework, idiot."

"You do your homework!"

"For your information, I finished it all ahead of time. You, however, have been procrastinating on that three-foot potions essay. Maybe now that you've morphed a couple of potions on your own, you may have become an expert overnight."

Blaise groaned, letting his head fall back onto his pillow, "I'm tired of potions! I've been working on that love potion for the entire day!"

"Then do the Transfiguration essay you left in your dormitory last class. Nice excuse, by the way, it's not like McGonagall hasn't heard it a million times already anyway," Draco said sarcastically.

"You know I'm no good at covering my tracks. You're the cool and collected one!"

"And what would that make you?"

"Er- the handsome one? The one who's got his life together? The one that will eventually be famous for something other than having a rich and influential family?" Blaise smirked over in the direction of Draco's bed. The blond hadn't put down his book, and his eyes still scanned the pages as his friend jabbered on.

"And I'm just the cool and collected one?" He flipped his page, acting bored even though the conversation was actually enjoyable for him.

"Eh, you're the smarter of us as well. At least you've got that going for you."

"Go do an essay, Zabini. I don't care which one, just do something so that you don't lose more house points for forgetting homework."


	2. The Leadup

The next morning, the Slytherin common room was abuzz with activity. Tryouts for Quidditch took place after classes, and nearly everyone would be there, whether it be for watching or trying out for the team.

Draco had a double herbology class that morning, but after that, he had a free period. Since he hadn't been on his broom at all in the past week, he had been planning on taking it out for a practice run. It never hurt to get ahead of the others, and once everyone else arrived for tryouts, he would be all warmed up and ready to go.

He made his way down to breakfast without a word to anyone, even though the entirety of Slytherin house was abuzz with gossip. It seemed that people were already placing bets on who would make it onto the team that year.

"I reckon Flint will have an easy time ratting out the phonies this year. We'll probably just have the same team as last year. Barely any of them graduated."

"There's that second year that's been showing off a bunch this year; the one with all the freckles and the dreadlocks. I've heard he's trying for seeker." That comment caught Draco's attention, and he turned to the side so that he could better hear the two fifth-years conversing off to his left.

"He's descended from a long line of professional Quidditch players, from what I've heard. But just because it's in his blood, that doesn't mean he's automatically a prodigy."

 _Right_ , Draco thought to himself, _but I'd better keep my eye out for the little twerp either way. I won't be taking any chances._

Sure, his father had stepped in last year to help him get his spot on the team. But that was only because it was nearly impossible for second years to get on the team unless they were basically prodigal or rich enough to throw cash in everyone's faces. Draco fit into that second category, buying the entire team the newest and fastest brooms at the time. But now that Draco was a third year, he was sure he would be able to get in with talent alone.

It also helped that he had been on the team the year before, and his teammates had grown to accept that Draco actually knew what he was doing when it came to Quidditch.

He grabbed a piece of toast and stared off into space as he munched on it, thinking about the possibilities for the Quidditch season. Gryffindor had particularly strong beaters in the Weasley twins, and their captain would be trying extra hard to beat out the other teams since it would be his last year at Hogwarts. Their chasers were average by the standards of a Malfoy, but it was Harry Potter that worried him the most.

But it seemed as if Potter would be going through another difficult year at Hogwarts, judging by his encounter with dementors on the train ride to school. Another adventure would keep him busy; maybe even busy enough to disregard quidditch and give Slytherin the chance to beat his team and the rest of the school as well.

Ravenclaw was always pretty good since they knew the best plays to make and were always twenty steps ahead of everyone else. However, even intelligence could be beaten out with a surplus of skill. They wouldn't be much of a hassle, as always.

Hufflepuff had been done alright for the past few years, but they would be getting a new captain this year, and from what Draco had deducted, no one really accepted the new leadership. That would play a part in tearing the team apart. And, of course, if the team had no teamwork, they definitely wouldn't be able to beat people bent to beat them.

Draco took quidditch very seriously. He took his studies seriously and, of course, he did wonderfully in school. But Quidditch was in a close second in importance to him, because when he was in the sky, he could fly away from all the problems of the world. Quidditch pulled on his competitive strings, which were much more plentiful in him than could be found in the average fourteen-year-old student.

It soon came time for the beginning of herbology, and Draco found himself going through the motions of class. They had been working on getting to better understand the way a rhododendron acted when in the presence of muggles compared to wizards or witches for the past few classes.

His group had already figured out the differences; it was quite simple, really. Amongst magical people, the flower could change colors all across the spectrum. When muggles were present, in terms of the colors of the rhododendron, they would see a pure white or a pink. The white was because the muggles couldn't handle the rapid change, and so all the bright colors blended together into a white. The pink usually occurred because rhododendron usually opted for a bright red coloring in front of magical beings, and sometimes the red would overpower the other colors for muggles, thus tinting the white into a slightly redder or pinker hue.

It was elementary, really. Even a muggle could figure it out; well, that is if they knew it was actually happening right under their noses.

Draco looked over to his left, where Potter, Weasel, and Granger were working. Granger seemed to be fighting with them about something. Draco shamelessly listened in, not caring if he was caught.

"You didn't get anything done while I was out, did you? This is simple, you guys! You need to start studying more! I don't even know why Professor Sprout gave us multiple days to figure this one out." She went on to say the exact same explanation that Draco had figured out already.

Weasel scratched his head, "Well, I guess it's possible."

"What confuses me is how that's possible. Can anything just be accepted outright in the wizarding world, with the explanation of just 'magic'?" Granger had gone above and beyond, as always. She had already answered the question after only one class of gathering evidence, and now she was jumping the gun and asking yet another question.

Draco rolled his eyes. What an overachiever.

He turned back to his own seat, bored with the Golden Trio. Granger had been missing for the past few classes, and Draco, of course, had noticed how little work ethic the other two had without her egging them on. What would they do without her?

It felt like forever before it finally came time to pack up and the students were released.

It was finally time to fly.


	3. The Fall

It took all his willpower to keep from running to the common room to fetch his things. Draco was eager to get up in the sky, especially after such a boring day of doing basically nothing in Herbology.

After changing into some more comfortable robes and switching out his books for his broom, Draco made his way down to the Quidditch pitch, hoping that no one else had thought of practicing before tryouts. He would rather the time be spent alone, and not crowded by a bunch of hopefuls that could barely control a broom. It had taken fifteen minutes for him to swap out his things.

When he arrived at the pitch, his spirits lifted when he saw no sign of other flyers. There were a few shadowed forms in the stands, most likely studying couples who wanted to get away from everyone else.

Draco had never been shy about his skill in flying though, so he only grinned when he noticed the pedestrians.

Mounting his broom, he took off into the sky, letting out a contained whoop when he felt the wind rush against his face.

Hermione needed to catch up on her Herbology work. McGonagall had been giving her a few lessons on how to work her time turner lately, and coincidentally they had fallen all on Herbology classes. Two lessons already had passed. Luckily, it seemed that Hermione would understand her time turner from that point forward.

However, Harry and Ron had been no help whatsoever in letting her know what exactly was going on in class, and she had to work on the report for their last lab. Rhododendrons and their behavior around muggles compared to magical beings. It was an easy concept, but there really wasn't much to write about it. Certainly not enough to cover two feet of parchment, as Professor Sprout had called for.

Hermione sighed, packing her things up. She wouldn't be able to count on Ron to help her with the essay, but maybe Harry could help her out before she finished it on her own.

"Hey, Hermione, do you want to come along with us? Ron and I are headed to the lake. It feels great out, and we were thinking of going for a swim," Harry offered.

"I think I'll turn you down this time, Harry. I've got some work to do."

"Oh, the Herbology essay? If you leave it for later, Ron and I can help you in the common room tonight. After all, it's a group effort. Although, I don't know if we'll be much help. We were at a loss until you showed up today." Harry grinned sheepishly, messing with his hair.

"Well, I'll get started on it. If I still need your help by tonight, I'll just let you know. I don't feel like meeting the Giant Squid anytime soon, to be honest. I'll just go study. I have some other work to do as well. Ancient Runes can prove to be very difficult if you don't study outside of class."

"Well, if you say so." Harry waved over to Ron, who had just been finishing the cleanup.

They parted ways, and Hermione headed over to the Quidditch Pitch. It was a pretty day out, after all. Maybe a change of scenery would give her some inspiration for the Herbology essay.

She climbed up to the tower which was usually filled with cheering Gryffindor fans during games, but which was empty at the moment. It was propped fifty feet over the field so that the viewers would be able to watch the flying players without craning their necks the entire time.

Hermione took a seat close to the balcony, leaning over the wooden fencing to see if she was completely alone in the pitch. There were a few other students lagging around as well, but no one had a broomstick. It seemed they were just there to hang out or study.

Cracking open her books, Hermione splayed everything out around her, taking up an entire bench with her things. She put groups of each class's work in different piles, planning that when she had tired of one subject, she would simply move on to another class, like a station. Usually, this was good for keeping her from going insane with her amount of classwork. After all, this year she was taking double the classes that were even possible, and the time turner tucked beneath her sweater was proof of that.

The wind blew her hair into her face suddenly, and she pushed it out of the way with a huff. There hadn't been any wind before that, so where had that gust come from?

She peered over the banister, searching for a source of the breeze other than nature. Another gust blew up into her face as a figure passed by on a broom, so fast she could barely catch a glimpse of who caused them.

Draco Malfoy was showing off on the edges of the field, making laps with the speed of a seasoned flyer. Hermione groaned again. If he was going to keep doing that, she wouldn't be able to focus on her studies.

The day outside had been nice while it lasted, but it looked like she would have to relocate to somewhere with a little more peace and quiet. The library would have to do.

Hermione began gathering up her books. They were pretty heavy, but she didn't want to charm them. Magic was always really cool, but Hermione liked the feeling of getting something difficult done on her own, even if that something was as small a task as carrying a few books down multiple flights of stairs.

She set down the books in a single pile on the bench, then set her bag down next to it. The view from the banister was worth seeing one last time before she went back inside, so she leaned over the side, relishing the sun on her skin.

The crack of wood took her by surprise, and she opened her eyes not to the skyline, but to the rushing ground below her. It took a few moments for her stomach to lurch forward, as if it had been left in the stands to begin with but had suddenly realized the loss of sturdy ground.

Falling...

Hermione grabbed for her wand, which she usually kept in her robes, but her hands grabbed only cloth. Her wand! She had put it in her bag! And her bag was still up there, in the Gryffindor stands.

There was nothing she could do without her wand. Her body fell, her limbs sprawling around. She fought against the wind as it pushed against her back; as if it were trying to push her back up towards safety.

She cried out, but her voice seemed to drown in the pressure pushing against her from all sides.

This was true fear.

Hermione had faced many things since she had started her years in Hogwarts. She had even witnessed a Dementor earlier that year, which was said to be the embodiment of fear and terror. But the feelings the dementor had caused had been purely invoked by it. She had known she would be alright afterward, and so she could still hang on to some of that hope.

Hermione searched for an ounce of hope within her situation at the moment. Maybe if she screamed loud enough, she would get the attention of the snogging couple that she had seen in the Hufflepuff stands.

Just as she opened her mouth and sucked in a huge bout of air to give out a loud scream, her body was suddenly suspended.

Had she landed?

More importantly–had she survived?

"You're so lucky I actually caught you."


	4. The Exchange

Hermione collapsed onto the wooden slats of flooring as soon as she felt the ground beneath her feet. Malfoy had brought her all the way back to the Gryffindor stands rather than just placing her on the ground, which she would have preferred. But she couldn't make herself say anything, for fear of vomiting out her lunch rather than actual words.

"Reparo." She could hear the swish of a wand as Malfoy fixed the wooden partition she had fallen through. "Didn't you notice the thing was splintered to begin with? Obviously, the smartest witch of her age hasn't got much else going for her other than book smarts."

Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes, and she reached up with a shaking hand to wipe them away. Realizing how pathetic she looked in front of the biggest bully of the school, she felt bile rise in her throat before she choked it back down. No way would she show even more weakness to this Slytherin.

Of all the people that could have been there to help her, it just had to be Malfoy. Why hadn't he just let her fall?

"I've heard sweets help with emotional things like this." Malfoy rustled around in his pockets, coming up with a wrapped foil after a few seconds. "Take this as an offering. Don't tell anyone I helped you today. I should have just let you fall, and if it gets out that I actually saved one-third of the Golden Trio, my reputation will be permanently tarnished. Nonetheless, a mudblood! Merlin, what was I thinking? I guess I wasn't."

He threw the chocolate into Hermione's bag, and she watched in silence. She didn't trust herself to speak. He obviously didn't want a thank you, and she was afraid her voice would come out all warped if she tried to speak.

"No need to thank me, mudblood. Just keep it to yourself." Malfoy mounted his broom once again and leaped off the side of the stands, almost in the exact spot from which Hermione had fallen. The difference, of course, was that he had a means of saving himself if gravity suddenly decided to take control of his movements.

Hermione couldn't hold it in any longer. She could do nothing as tears crept down her cheeks, dripping from her chin. To add to that, her stomach emptied its contents all over the front of her. That only made her cry harder.

Even the bravest of the Gryffindors had fears.

It took almost fifteen minutes for Hermione to crawl over to her bag, where her wand sat. What was the use of a wand if it couldn't help save her when she most needed it? On impulse, Hermione tried to snap her wand in half before her intelligence won out and she gasped. What was she thinking? She had trained herself not to act on impulse from an early age, and yet now it had almost won out, killing her most precious belonging.

Her shaking hand waved around in the air as she performed a simple cleaning spell, not wanting even a spot of her mess to remain behind. "Scourgify."

Every last spot disappeared, and the deck of the stands was even cleaner than it had previously been. But Hermione still felt dirty, and so she repeated the spell two more times. She still felt weak, but she felt more than anything that she had to have her feet back on the ground once again. Despite her feet being planted on something solid, Hermione still was not on Earth. She could still fall fifty feet from where she was currently.

She charmed her books to fly behind her. She felt too weak to carry them herself after what had just happened. As she slowly made her way down the many flights of stairs to the ground, she gripped onto the railings as if they were holding her and keeping her planted on the solidity of the wooden planks below her.

It seemed like forever before she actually made it all the way down, and her knees felt weak. But she pushed on, barely feeling the ground beneath her as she made her way up to the Gryffindor common room. Her schoolbag floated along behind her obediently.

A few people walked past, not knowing that she was so out of sorts. Perhaps she looked confident on the outside, or maybe she just blended into the hallway. After all, she was just another magical student in a school full of them.

She collapsed into an armchair near the fire, trying to steady her breathing. Maybe studying would help take her mind off of what had just happened. Her bag collapsed next to her with a loud crash.

She opened up a book in her lap, but none of the words dared to process in her mind. Certain phrases leaped out at her, "falling" and "death" in particular. A witch who was afraid of heights. She wasn't doing any good for all the children's tales that painted witches as broomstick-riding cat lovers. So far, Hermione was only the "cat lovers" part, and Crookshanks wasn't even a typical black cat!

A witch with a fear of heights. How ironic.

"Hermione, can you help me and Harry with that Potions paper?" Ron, who had been previously stuffing his face with some form of junk food, had finally noticed Hermione. He stood and slouched over to her.

Hermione's words, rather than remain silent, began running from her mouth. She barely knew what she was saying, but she just had to let out her emotions on something. She would feel better after that, right?

"Ronald Weasley, you can do your own homework! Why do I always have to help you with things as simple as this? You never ask me if I want your help, but I'm always expected to help you! And Harry Potter, you're the same exact way! Why, I don't even know if the only reason you two are my friends is so I do your homework or if you actually enjoy my company! If I didn't help you two, you wouldn't give me a second glance!" She fumed, and Harry, who had followed Ron over, stepped back a few feet in shock.

"Bloody hell, Hermione. What's up with you today?" Ron swallowed the rest of his food, wiping crumbs from around his lips.

"And would you stop eating, Ronald?! You're such a mess!" Hermione grabbed a pillow from her chair and clutched it over her face. A muffled scream followed shortly after. "I'm going to the library. I need some quiet."

Hermione got up as quickly as she could, grabbed her satchel from the ground, and was out of the common room before either Ron or Harry were able to say another word.

"You reckon we should go after her?" Harry asked his ginger best friend, a questioning quirk gracing his face.

"Nah, you know how she can be. She'll be ready to tell us exactly what happened as soon as she's been surrounded by books long enough. Wanna play some wizard's chess?"

"Yeah, I guess," Harry answered slowly, still wondering what had been wrong with Hermione.


	5. The Realization

Draco hadn't been planning on saving a life that day. It had happened, and that was that. He had looked up, seen a falling form, realized that whoever that form was hadn't been doing anything to stop the fall, and automatically launched himself to their rescue.

Perhaps it had been impulse. Human nature called for people to protect other people, right? It was a simple rule of the animal kingdom; to protect your own.

But he couldn't have known that the one falling would be Hermione Granger, who just so happened to be one of his sworn enemies. And all because of her association with Harry Potter. He didn't regret saving her life. Despite the circumstances, he didn't want more people dying than need be, even if it was the mudblood herself.

Draco shook his head, trying to focus back in on the task at hand. Quidditch tryouts were in progress, and just because he had been on the team last year, that didn't mean he would be on it this year as well. Especially not if he wasn't focused when tryouts were going on.

"Malfoy, Zabini, Jackson, Harshman, Crabbe, Kendrick, O'Hare! You're up!" A call rang through Draco's ears, and he turned his attention to the field, a scowl passing across his face. Already set up in the sky, his opposing seeker would be the boy he had heard about earlier. The so-called second-year "prodigy"—dreadlocks, freckles, and sour grin included.

"You had better back off or else you might get hurt," Draco muttered, a wicked smile gracing his lips. He mounted his broom and took off into the sky, not letting the boy reply.

Marcus Flint, the captain, mounted his broom last and rose to their level, a whistle between his lips. His booming voice filled the stadium as he counted down, "On the count of ten! One! Two! Three!"

Draco gazed over at the opposers, all made up of his own housemates. Before making the team, all hopefuls would have to go through several rounds of conditioning. It ensured a possibility of showing off what they knew already as well as capacity for teamwork. When it came down to it, the beaters would be the strongest, the seeker would be the fastest, the chasers would be the most nimble, and the keeper would be the most aware.

"Eight! Nine! Ten! Go!" The shriek of Flint's whistle pierced the silence, and mayhem ensued as the six who had taken the position of chaser lunged for the center. The quaffle hung suspended in the air for an instant before its capture.

Draco fell back automatically, using what he knew about the members of the opposing team to predict their plays ahead of time. Unluckily enough though, he knew nothing about the new prodigy; not even his name. If he had overheard it ever before he had forgotten it by this point. But it wasn't his name that mattered, it was his plays.

Keeping his eye out for a familiar gold flash of the snitch, Draco studied his opponent. He was severely close to the edge of the field. If he were to just go out of bounds, this game would be a cauldron cake once he was declared disqualified.

A feeling of discomfort suddenly raced down Draco's back, a shiver racking his back. Something—or someone—was right behind him. Like a machine, all his options ran through his head as if they were coding on a computer. But when the other seeker began diving toward him with a crazed look in his eye, Draco knew exactly what to do.

Whipping around, he caught a quick glimpse of the fluttering ball as it whizzed off into the field. Draco was confident in his skill and the speed of his broom though, and so he powered on, chasing the snitch.

The kid was right on his tail. Turned out he didn't have a half bad broom, and his control—Draco couldn't help but notice—was actually very steady.

The chase was a short one. For some reason, the snitch made a quick turn to the left about five paces ahead of Draco. Since Draco was on the left side of the chase, he was able to veer off without a collision. He was successful in intercepting the snitch before it could build up any more speed.

Holding the snitch aloft, Draco descended from the sky. He glanced behind him to see the "prodigy" with a sour look on his face and a certain finger pointed toward Draco. Draco just smirked and returned the gesture before whistling to the chasers, who were still trying to get in their last few points.

"The game's over, mates!" Draco tossed the snitch in the direction of Flint, falling short. It didn't matter though; the snitch flew the rest of way to the Slytherin captain.

As everyone else landed back on the ground, windswept but caught up in the moment, Draco made his way over to Blaise Zabini. He tucked his hands into his pockets and shot a cocky grin at his friend.

"Nice catch. Smart maneuver. Of course, you'll get the position. Okay, now that that conversation is over, we can talk. And by talk I mean options. And by options, I mean the love potion, if you were suddenly too dense to follow my broken train of thought." Blaise kicked his broom up into his hand, snatching it from the air. Draco already had his rested on his shoulder, bristles behind him.

"I'm not planning on feeding some poor girl a chocolate you made; I'd bet ten galleons it tastes like rubber."

"It's not the taste that matters, and you know that. Granted, I'm no pâtissier, but then again why bother? We've got magic for shit like that." Draco stayed silent as Blaise went on about the potion. They ended up in the changing rooms, and it was silent as they changed into their school robes once again.

"I'm not going to use it. Do you want me to give it back to you? I'm sure you'll have another girl to go after sooner or later, right? Here—" Draco began digging through his bag. When he realized he couldn't find the chocolate, he dumped his bag out (careful not to topple the inkwell). He scrambled to spread everything out, suddenly panicked.

"Shit." Draco slumped into himself, murmuring more profanities under his breath. "Granger's got the chocolate."

"Granger's got the chocolate? You've gotta be fucking with me! Good for you, mate! You gonna break her heart now?" Blaise clapped the moaning blond on the back, not noticing his depressed aura.

 _But Granger may not have eaten the chocolate quite yet!_ Draco could only hope for that outcome, somehow pushing his doubt to the back of his mind. Without explaining any further, he stuffed all his things back into his bag haphazardly and raced out of the room.


	6. The Consumption

Hermione had been in the library for the past couple hours, and yet her heartbeat still had not slowed. Her fidgeting fingers would not steady, and her mind seemed never to cease its racing. Everything suddenly felt like a threat to her. She sat on the ground, feeling a need to be as close to the Earth as possible after experiencing the free fall of gravity and realizing she never wanted to be under those circumstances again.

She had been approached by three people already, all curious about what had happened that would cause her to suddenly want to become a roly-poly. She wasn't even reading a book, for Merlin's sake!

But being surrounded by books helped calm her nerves a little at least. She had been able to turn away the three wanderers without screaming in their faces, so at least she was able to hold herself back a bit.

Hermione had nearly died on multiple occasions already. Why did this one time affect her so much? Perhaps it was because every other time, she hadn't been completely helpless. She'd had her wand in her hand and at least a possible plan in her mind. She'd been able to use her smarts to get past the traps in first year. Last year, she'd figured out how not to be killed off by the basilisk and had been able to narrowly avoid it with what she knew.

She had to shake herself out of it, just as she had every time before. For her friends, for her studies, and especially for herself. It never did anyone any good to walk through life in fright of everything.

Sure, she'd had to face her fear for a little in first year, when they had been taught to fly on broomsticks. But she'd only ever gotten four feet above the ground. Hovering was a completely different thing from falling from fifty feet in the air.

It may seem irrational for a witch to be frightened by heights, but this wasn't a new fear. Even before she had found out she was a witch, Hermione had stayed grounded, no matter what the circumstances were.

Maybe it had something to do with her outlook on life. There wasn't time for frivolous things, and her mind centered around what she knew and what she would soon know. Without the ground under her feet, the unknown suddenly became much more vast.

And it was because of her grounded attitude that she knew she had to get over this.

Taking another very deep breath, Hermione spread herself out on the library floor, not caring if anyone saw and questioned her. She let the silence envelop her, allowed herself to forget the rest of the world, and calmed down enough to sit back up and search her bag for her wand.

Magic had always served as a wonderful source of comfort for her, even back when she hadn't known she was a witch. Even when she was younger, Hermione would read books where magic was real. All the while, she had not known that magic was a reality elsewhere.

Soon she had pulled everything from her bag, including several books, quills, inkwells, and sweets. She unwrapped the first sweet that tumbled out and the sugar helped her calm down a little. Once that candy was gone, she moved on to the others, until they were all gone.

Much calmer, Hermione began gathering her books and chose an essay to work on. She relocated to an empty table in the corner and tried to focus on that. Sometimes the best way to move past something that causes anxiety is to distract yourself with important things, and to Hermione, nothing was more important than schoolwork and proving herself as a witch.

Her mind kept leaping back to what had happened, as if she kept reliving those few seconds of the free fall millions of times over in her head. Common sense should tell her that she was safe now, but her mind was easily tricked, and she was in over her head, and it was just so difficult to pretend that everything was okay!

Draco, meanwhile, had been rushing around in search of a certain Gryffindor. He hadn't found Granger yet, even though he'd been searching for over half an hour. Soon it would be time for dinner, and everyone would be around them. He wouldn't be able to talk to her in front of all the other students, or else rumors might start going around!

That meant that he had to find her now, or else she might eat the chocolate before he could steal it back, or at least warn her.

Draco ran to warn the mudblood, knowing that if she were to eat that chocolate, bad things would happen. She may even fall in love with him for good. Because, come on, Draco Malfoy was gorgeous, and everybody knew it. Maybe not everyone would admit to thinking so, but it had run through everyone's mind, or at least Draco thought so.

But of course, the whole superiority complex thing can be pretty harmful to an image, and it certainly narrowed the dating pool.

Thinking to himself, Draco figured there would be two places that Hermione Granger would most likely be. And since one was Gryffindor tower, he figured he should try the library first, where he could actually get in without breaking about a hundred rules.

He ran through the corridors, leaping up stairwells and knocking narrowly past suits of shining armor. All he kept thinking was hope behind hope that he was right in thinking the bookworm would be found surrounded by books in her weakest moment.


	7. The Question

The unmistakable view of a bushy brown hair was immediately recognizable as Draco first stepped foot in the library. Pince was glaring at him for bringing in his broomstick. It wasn't against the rules to have one with him though, so she could do nothing to stop him.

Draco made his way over to where Granger sat surrounded by a mountain of books, none of which she was reading. Instead, her head lay on her bag, and she breathed in and out methodically.

The girl was asleep. How had she even fallen asleep so easily after nearly dying only a few hours earlier? Draco shook his head, amazed at how brave she was. Not that he would ever admit it out loud, but Gryffindors had that bravery trait that he idolized but lacked. In fact, if he hadn't been pure Slytherin, he may even have been sorted into Gryffindor first year just because of his treasuring of the trait. But circumstances didn't match up, and so the pup had become a wolf.

The books shaded Granger from the view of everyone else; almost as if they were a protective barrier from the rest of the world. Draco crossed the barrier and unceremoniously shoved her shoulder to wake her up.

"What-? Where-?" The disoriented Granger yawned and rubbed her eyes before noticing Draco standing beside her. "What are you doing here? You said you didn't want me to mention the-"

Draco cut in, holding himself back from shoving a hand over her mouth to stop her from saying too much, "I don't want you to mention it. It didn't happen, okay? But I need that chocolate back."

"Why?" Granger seemed almost taken aback. Shouldn't she have already expected this kind of behavior from a Slytherin though? Draco was used to that cold shoulder, especially from Gryffindors like Granger.

"I don't need to answer anything you ask me, mudblood," Draco said casually. His hands were in his pockets, concealing the building amount of sweat accumulating on his palms. At least now that he was here, she wouldn't eat it. But if she had eaten it before he arrived... he couldn't even think of what he would do then.

Granger's face had begun to turn a deep red color, and Draco could almost imagine steam coming from her ears at this point at how angry she seemed. "What, was it meant for someone else? Doesn't matter now. I've already eaten all the candy I've had in my bag. That includes the chocolate."

Draco suddenly felt as if he were suffocating; as if his tie had been pulled in to choke him. He adjusted and loosened the tie that was already loose around his neck before murmuring almost inaudibly, "Shit."

"You didn't- You didn't poison that chocolate, did you?" Granger asked, her blustering red face transferring to a ghastly chalk white at the mere thought.

"Of course not. If that were the case, I would let you be poisoned. I've saved your life enough for the day, thank you very much". That would make this whole situation so much easier- the chocolate being poison instead. But no, Blaise just had to brew his way into love and pull Draco unwittingly alongside.

"Well, then what was it?" A little color had returned o her face, although she looked still paler than usual.

"It was a chocolate, Granger. What else could it be?"

"That one didn't taste like chocolate. It tasted like magic!"

"What does magic even taste like, genius?" He couldn't help but add on, muttering to himself, "Honestly, of course a mudblood would say something tastes like magic, how imbecilic."

"Well since you've been around magic your entire life, you would be partial to it. I swear, Malfoy, if you drugged me I'll have you expelled!" Granger had begun to gather her things, and her posture suggested that she was about to make a run for it.

 _I can't do anything more for her now, anyway. It's a lost cause if she's already eaten the chocolate. I'll just have to wait and see if it works._ Draco turned on his heel, his broom slung over his shoulder.

Granger didn't call after him. Good. Maybe that was a sign that the chocolate had been a dud. Blaise had never been all that great with following directions. Sometimes that led to barely functional potions. Draco could only hope that Blaise's flaw had finally done some good.

It was almost time for dinner. Draco would have to drop his broom back at the common room. As he walked, he planned out exactly what choice words he would be saying to Blaise during dinner for giving him that chocolate in the first place.

Hermione didn't feel at all like eating, but she picked herself up and gathered her things and went on her way. She didn't even stop when she passed by Gryffindor tower, bringing her bag along with her to the hall.

Harry and Ron were already sitting at their usual seats, and Hermione joined them quietly.

"I'm sorry for earlier," she whispered into her pumpkin juice, barely even taking a sip before setting it back down. As she looked around at the tables full of food, she thought of how she had gotten sick earlier. Despite her stomach being empty, she pushed away her scarcely filled plate.

Ron had heard her and gave her a side hug as he munched on his sandwich. "Are you ready to talk to us yet?"

"Something must have happened," said Harry. He placed his own half-eaten sandwich back on his plate so that he could direct all his attention to Hermione.

"Well, I was planning on doing some homework up in the Gryffindor stand on the Quidditch pitch. It was so lovely out that it seemed a waste to hole myself up in the library when I could just as easily do my work outside."

"Yeah, you should have joined us at the lake. The giant squid didn't even end up showing. The water felt great," Ron piped in as Hermione paused.

"I wish I had," Hermione gulped, "I fell from the stands as I was trying to catch a breeze." At this, Ron dropped his sandwich, and he and Harry automatically started looking her up and down.

"Are you alright? You must have used magic to stop the fall, or at least to slow it down, right? Those stands are nearly fifty feet tall, you couldn't have survived without magic!" Ron exclaimed.

Feeling shaken at remembering it, Hermione rushed her way through her explanation. "My wand was up in the stands, in my bag. I thought I was a goner, but before I know it, there's a boy on a broom and he's lifting me back up to Gryffindor tower, and I'm shaken but alive and... Well, that troll in first year definitely frightened me, but this was worse by a tenfold!"

"Do you know who the boy is? What house was he from?"

Hermione paused. Should she tell them that it had been Malfoy? What good would that do anyone, after all? It would probably just invalidate the rescue, and Harry and Ron would just write it off as an accident by the Slytherin boy. Hermione didn't want to listen to them complain about Draco Malfoy right now. Especially not after he had saved her, albeit with regret.

"I didn't catch a glimpse," Hermione heard herself say, "I was too busy vomiting."

"Bloody hell, Hermione, we're going to have to keep a closer eye on you from now on."


	8. The Effects Begin

"So, let me get this straight. You were flying around, saw a falling body, went to save her, realized she was Hermione Granger (your nemesis, in fact), and gave her the chocolate you knew to contain a modified love potion that could or could not be faulty?" Theodore Nott had somehow overheard Draco's conversation with Blaise earlier. Why he had waited until they were all back in the common room to bring it up, Draco had no idea.

"Who would be stupid enough to modify a love potion-?" Blaise tried to cover his tracks, although it sounded as if it would be impossible at this point. However, he was silenced by a hand from Theo.

"Cut the crap, lover boy. That cauldron had been spitting out bubbles from underneath your bed for two nights straight. Did you really think the rest of us wouldn't notice?"

"Well, go ask Crabbe and Goyle if they noticed, and I'll get back to you on that." Blaise grinned nastily.

"We all know those two have brains the size of walnuts; don't even bother." Draco sighed, putting his head in his hands. "Just don't let anyone else know I saved the mudblood. If you keep your mouth shut, I'll put in a good word for you with Snape. It's no secret you're already failing potions."

"Fine by me, mate. I'll head up to bed now, and let you two evil geniuses plan your devious plan in peace. Oh, and by the way, Pansy's making her way over to smother you again, Draco."

"I don't have time for this right now. Blaise, we still have an hour until curfew. Let's just get out of here."

"It really helps that you're second in our year in academics, you know. It's brilliant how you can pull that out as leverage in any conversation."

"I won't actually be going to Snape for him. He wouldn't seriously do anything to help him anyway, it would just be a wasted effort. I'll just start giving him little tips whenever he messes up in class, and his grade will improve just from that, so he won't have any room to complain."

"This is why we're friends, you evil genius!" Blaise went to hug Draco, but Draco pushed him away.

"I've gotten enough smothering from Pansy to last me a lifetime, so you can back off there."

"Assumedly, you'll soon have Granger on your trail as well."

"Don't remind me, you twat. This is all thanks to you, after all, and I really-"

"You're welcome," Blaise shot a lazy grin at Draco and gave him a wink. He knew just how annoyed Draco was that he would have to now deal with Granger as well, and he was going to milk the results for as long as he possibly could.

"Have I told you lately that your ideas suck? No? Well, there you go. Your ideas suck, Zabini."

Hermione felt... weird.

It wasn't a queasy feeling in her stomach. It wasn't a pounding in her head. It wasn't any sort of physical pain inside our outside of her body. So what could it be?

It was almost as if her entire body was tingling. Her fingertips sparked. She felt her own heartbeat through her chest. There was a glow of perspiration on her forehead, despite Hermione not being a "pretty sweater". So what could possibly be wrong?

Might she be noticing these things as new and beautiful because she had nearly lost them all the day before when she had fallen from the stands? Or could it be that she had been affected by a magical plant that was yet to be introduced as magical in some class? Or... had Malfoy done something to that chocolate?

No, Malfoy wouldn't drug her. He really wasn't that bad, after all. Why had Hermione avoided him so much beforehand anyway? He was a Slytherin, sure. But just because he was meant to be something, that didn't mean he had to be that something. After all, Hermione herself was a muggleborn, but did she know any less than the pureblood wizards of the age? No! She may even know more than some of them!

The one upside of this queasy feeling was the sudden feeling of calm. Sure, she had nearly died earlier that day. Was she meant to feel queasy still? Could she really allow herself to forget the incident so quickly? Well, it was for the best now, wasn't it? The sooner she could forget it, the better she would feel.

Instead of thinking of the fall itself, Hermione allowed herself to replay her rescue in her mind. She'd been too scared to notice much of anything at the time, but now she recalled the feeling of euphoria as she had realized that she was no longer falling. She had felt the way that he had carried her; as if she were a fragile parcel that he didn't want to break.

And then she had vomited in his plain view.

What a beautiful moment. Hermione felt her cheeks burning with humiliation, and they darkened even further as she thought about later, when he had seen her sleeping. She'd probably been snoring! Or even drooling! _Oh, Merlin, why does this all have to happen to me?_

Hermione tried to push the feeling from her mind. Maybe she was just creating it as an effect of the fall. A sort of knight-in-shining-armor sort of complex. She would be back to normal when the shock of what had happened had worn off. Malfoy had always been a bully. Just because he had saved her this one time, that didn't mean that he had changed!

Harry and Ron had been glued to her side ever since she had told them of her fall. They'd been casting glances at every boy that so much as looked at Hermione all day. It seemed that they had put it upon their own shoulders to find the rescuer. It mattered not; Hermione knew they would never even allow the thought of Draco Malfoy rescuing their best friend to pass through their conscious minds.

"Hermione, let me do the Herbology essay this time. I understood the study once you explained it to me, and if I at least let out the layout, you can perfect it after you're back to normal," Harry said, holding out a hand for the parchment.

"That would be a big help, Harry."

"I'll help too. I was thinking about what you said earlier, Hermione, about how we wouldn't be your friends if you didn't help us with schoolwork and whatnot. But we can prove you wrong. Of course, it helps that you're top of our class. But that doesn't mean we're your friends only because it benefits us," Ron assured her.

"I'm lucky to have such good friends. We've been through so much together already; the three of us. I had no right to lash out at you. It was only because I felt so vulnerable that I let those words slip. I was so on edge."

"I wouldn't blame you, 'Mione."

"But Harry, you've been through more near-death experiences than I ever have. You-Know-Who gave you a scar to show proof of that when you were only a baby. And then in the past two years, it seems you've been hunting down chances to cheat death again and again. Ron and I never made it to the point that we were truly in danger, but you've always made it to the end, and been able to overcome it. And yet I'm stuck resembling a jelly after falling a few stories."

"The difference, Hermione, is that you had no way of keeping yourself out of danger for once," Ron said, "You're such a bloody amazing witch that whenever you're without your wand now, you begin to panic."

"Ron's right," Harry chimed in, "You really rely on your wand. And I always had a way out of my experiences, or I was too young to understand that I was in danger."

It seemed things had completely changed ever since Hermione had begun her classes in Hogwarts. Before she had begun here nearly three years ago, she had been able to do thing the muggle way. Even after a year, she'd still had trouble remembering that she was in possession of true magic. Why; even during the hunt for the Philosopher's stone she had panicked and forgotten her magic. The Devil's Snare had caught her off guard, and Ron had had to remind her that she could produce fire with her own wand.

Now, it seemed, she had done a one-eighty. No longer was her problem that she forgot about her magic, but that she relied too much on it. The time turner hidden beneath her button down was further proof of that.

But she was a witch, after all. Shouldn't it make sense that she could rely on her magic?


	9. The Feeling

The next day came and Hermione woke up to Lavender and Parvati chattering about their most current crushes. For some reason, Draco Malfoy flashed through her mind as she heard their girlish giggles. Too tired to question her early morning thoughts, she quickly shook the blond from her mind without another thought.

She went through her normal schedule to get ready and joined Harry and Ron down in the common as usual.

It was almost as if yesterday hadn't even happened. But it had. Hermione couldn't forget it. She wouldn't forget it for the rest of her life. Malfoy had most likely already forgotten it himself, but Hermione couldn't find it in herself to think of him as a bad guy anymore. But that would change with time, wouldn't it? After all, it wouldn't be long before the pureblood elitist called her a mudblood again, and she would be over her temporary forgiveness of him; right?

"You ready to go down, Hermione?" Harry had his bag slung over his shoulder. Ron had his own bag over his left shoulder, and Hermione's on his right. They were still babying her. She would milk it while she could. After all, it wasn't every day Hermione got the princess treatment from her best friends.

"Yeah, let's go. Are you sure you wanna carry my bag, Ron?"

"It's okay, 'Mione. I don't mind at all." It looked like he was struggling with it. Ron knew about how studious Hermione was. He should have expected that she would carry around her school books plus more all day. He had wrought this on himself.

They exited the tower and began making their way downstairs. The paintings on the walls yawned and waved sleepily every few feet. Ron and Harry seemed to be avoiding the topic of the near-fatal fall yesterday, and Hermione was thankful for that. Instead, they talked about their latest Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Professor Lupin had brought in a boggart, and they had learned how to confuse it and defend themselves against it.

"I like that he's having such hands-on lessons. It's a great change from last year's crackpot lessons-if you could even call those things lessons," Ron said, trumpeting a laugh as he reminisced.

"Lockhart would have been a great professor if only he were able to stay in class the entire time."

"Hermione, do you still admire that fraud?"

"No! I don't!" Hermione blushed, looking away. "I like Lupin a lot more this year. You remember those times when Lockhart left the students to clean up the pesks he would bring in to show us? Lupin at least knows what he's doing. I wish I'd had a turn with the boggart. I can only wonder what my greatest fear would be."

"Probably a gigantic paper with a big fat F on it," Ron grinned, laughter shining in his eyes.

"Hermione, do you think that what happened yesterday may have changed your worst fear? I mean, it may have been failure before, but what if its something like falling or heights now?" Harry brought up a good point.

Could her worst fear be heights now? Or was it the fact that magic was such a fleeting thing? More importantly, was that something she would want to share with Harry and Ron? Ron had been around magic all his life, and Harry had been able to go up against evils even without magic. Would they understand? Hermione pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind, just as she always had done.

"I wonder how a boggart could show a fear like that."

The other boys only shrugged in response, not wanting to fight the sudden noise of the crowd on their way to breakfast.

The trio arrived in the Great Hall, which was already booming with business. Hermione gazed around, not sure exactly what she was searching for. The Weasley twins were bobbing from person to person by the Ravenclaws. Ginny Weasley waved to them from a spot in the center of the Gryffindor table. McGonagall was staring sternly over at a few Slytherins. The Slytherins climbed down from their spots on top of the Hufflepuff table as they noticed her glare. Lavender and Parvati were gossiping and giggling, shooting glances over at an older boy in Hufflepuff.

A crawling sensation sent chills down Hermione's spine as she took her seat next to Harry at the table. She whipped her head around, certain that someone was looking at her. Across the hall, silver eyes bore into her back, not breaking even when her own brown eyes met his.

Draco Malfoy was papery white, with dark bags under his eyes. And he was staring at her as if she had found out a life-threatening secret about him that she was bound to blurt out at any moment.

"What's up with Malfoy? He's got his eyes glued on us," Harry said as he followed Hermione's gaze and sent his own glare across the hall to Malfoy. "I bet he's planning something. We should keep our eyes on him."

Hermione remained silent, unnerved at the fact that Malfoy looked half-dead and that he had yet to let his gaze fall from hers. She turned back to her empty plate, a funny feeling in her stomach and her ears burning. She again dismissed the feeling, blaming the crowded atmosphere rather than trying to overthink it.

"Here, have some toast, Hermione." Ginny held out some buttered toast, still warm as the butter melted into the bread. "I heard what happened yesterday. Ron told me. I hope you don't mind; I wanted to let you know that you've got all your friends here to help you."

Hermione nodded silently, shooting a reassuring grin Ginny's way.

"If you'd like my thought on the matter, I think it might help you to write about the experience. Maybe you could send a letter to your parents? Or you could just start a journal if you don't want your parents worrying about you."

"That's a great idea. Thanks, Ginny. My parents have never really understood the dangers I've gotten myself into the past couple years. But this one wouldn't pass them. And because of that... I'll be keeping this between us. But starting a journal isn't a bad idea." Hermione shoveled a few bites of egg into her mouth and stood.

"I have to go to my first class now. I'll see you all later." Everyone nodded goodbye, bidding her farewell.

No one noticed when Draco Malfoy followed her out of the hall only moments after her exit.


	10. The Plan

Draco hadn't slept a wink last night. And it was all that bloody mudblood's fault, of course.

When dawn had arrived and his roommates had risen from their own beds, Draco sluggishly shut himself into the bathroom. He groaned at the sight of the dark circles under his eyes, not even noticing the raucous state his hair had twisted itself into.

Waving his wand, Draco tried to fix his own appearance. However, he didn't know many beauty spells (More of a witches' thing. And, after all, why would he need it? He was attractive even on his worst days.) and so the bags below his eyes remained.

On his way down to the common room, he grabbed Blaise and dragged him along by the sleeve. Eventually, Blaise started moving alongside Draco on his own. Blaise, disgruntled from being pushed around so early in the morning, slapped Draco on the hand until he let go. Draco barely felt the sting of the slap. His sleep-deprived state was busy focusing all his energy on his own thoughts.

"Mate, you look like you didn't get any sleep last night."

"That's because I didn't, Zabini," Draco said as he fixed his green and silver tie and stretched his neck. A sickly pop made him wince and regret even more so the long night he'd just had.

"I see," Blaise gave him a knowing look, "So you stayed up all night thinking about Granger and how to fix your dilemma, yeah?"

Draco nodded and held up a leather journal, tossing it to his best friend. "The third to last page. I was drifting in and out of consciousness last night, so some of it may be total scrap, but I came up with some ideas."

Blaise leafed through the pages of the book until he reached the page Draco had brought up. The page was crammed from top to bottom in small, illegible handwriting.

"Dude, no one can read your handwriting when it's this small. I can't even read your writing when it's normal sized." Blaise squinted at the highest line of writing, but to him, it might as well have been a different language.

Draco snatched back his journal, scowling at the slam on his handwriting. His handwriting was fine, and if he could read it so could anybody else. He slowed, not wanting to arrive in the very public Great Hall before he had shared his plan with Blaise.

He pointed to a point in the journal. The writing was so small that even the sharpest eyes wouldn't be able to pick out the words from a few feet away. Draco, however, held the book out to Blaise mockingly and asked him to read it.

Blaise, not knowing what the hell that big blob of ink meant, shook his head and frowned, shoving the book back at Draco. The two had completely stopped, and there were a few students walking by on their way to breakfast. Some turned to give them disapproving glares and snotty looks as they maneuvered around them.

"We make a cure for the potion. It may take some time since you tampered with the recipe, but I'm pretty confident-"

"When are you not?"

"-that I can figure out a way to disperse the effects. I just have to actually see the effects and original ingredients. Then I can start searching for ingredients. I appreciate the sarcasm there, Blaise."

"Always a pleasure. Anyway, can't you shove a bezoar down her throat or something and be done with it? You know, like, a universal cure and magically she's out of your hair?"

"I don't know how a bezoar would react with your less-than-mediocre potion mixing skills. The unpredictability of it all could cause some equally unpredictable side effects. It's safer to find a cure that's made especially for this potion."

Blaise frowned, then reached back to scratch the back of his neck with a look of what seemed to Draco to be one of hidden panic. "You need to know all the ingredients of the original potion for that, don't you?"

"Don't you bloody tell me you don't remember! I swear, Zabini, if you don't remember, I may not let you survive until the end of this year."

"Well, when you put it that way, I'm sure I'll be able to conjure up some form of a memory."

Draco put his hand to his temple, a very cross look on his face. When he looked back up at Blaise, the emotion had twisted into an eerily neutral look. On the other hand, Draco's voice gave information that pointed instead to borderline hysteria.

"Owl down, white chocolate, and natural white sugar. That's what I told you to put in it. And if we look at the recipes for the potions you used to get your desired effects before I added those ingredients, we should be able to gather enough information to replicate it and then begin to search for ingredients for an antidote."

"So I'm just automatically being pulled into being your accomplice for this?"

"You got me into this mess, so you're gonna help me get out of it too. I might be busy trying to shake off Granger, so you'll gather ingredients and books and all the resources. I'll do the actual potion work. I don't trust that you could do it right."

"Nice to know you've got confidence in me, mate," Blaise said, walking toward the double doors that led to the Dining Hall. "I'm starving and breakfast opened up ten minutes ago. We can discuss your little problem later, but I need food; pronto."

They walked into the Dining Hall together. Draco sat down at the Slytherin table next to Theo, who kept shooting him knowing stares. That prick didn't even know the full story. He had just overheard a conversation Draco and Blaise had had in the common room. But he knew the gist of the problem now. Maybe he could be of come use.

Draco shook his head lightly. He would keep the included persons to a minimum unless absolutely necessary. If Theo came in handy later on though, of course, Draco would take advantage of that.

After nearly finishing his boiled eggs and ham, Draco looked over to see if Granger was down yet. It seemed that not only had she come to eat but that she had finished and was about to leave. He locked eyes with Potter but decided not to let his gaze drop. Potter turned to his friends and said something, and then they all turned to look at him.

Draco turned back to his eggs, scarfing down what was left of them. Then he stood up, tucked his journal into his book bag, and stepped away from the table. Granger was leaving the hall, and now might be his only chance to catch her to see if she had reacted to the potion yet without Potter or Weasel around.


End file.
